


Three Times

by gabsrambles



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6212557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabsrambles/pseuds/gabsrambles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The three times Lexa laughed....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a post on tumblr that was sad because Clarke never got to hear Lexa laugh. I'd post it here but I don't know how ;).

The first time Clarke heard it they had been holding a war council before Mount Weather. Somehow Lexa had ended up standing a meter behind Clarke as Clarke leant over the table, fingers digging into the wood. One of the clan leaders had said that Clarke was being unnecessarily difficult and she had barely inclined her head to throw back, “Well you´re being a stubborn ass.” because Clarke sometimes had issues with speaking before she thought. As the large man had straightened his shoulders, his face clouding over, she heard Lexa laugh.

It could barely be called a laugh. It was more a puff of air through her nose that Clarke only heard because of her proximity. It didn´t stop her from turning to look at Lexa so fast her neck cracked, but Lexa was staring impassively ahead, eyes fixed on the map. Yet there was something about the press of her lips, a light in her eye.

The second time was months and months later, when Clarke was walking around leaving mountain footprints behind her. It was a time in which Clarke was having nights she only woke once, rather than every hour, heart hammering and the smell of blistered flesh in her nostrils. The cloak was heavy on Clarke´s shoulders, hood pulled up to shadow her face. Every day she walked in the shadow of the mountain, her mind eclipsed and darkened. It felt good to be that way in life too, to stick to walls, fingers scraping rough cement, the ability to blend easing her always anxious self. Lost, unsure of where she was and completely unfazed by that fact after three months learning to survive in the forest alone, Clarke heard the clash of swords, the grunts of sparring.

Her feet took her towards it, despite the thought in the back of her mind that she should fade away, find something else to stare at. Clinging to the corner wall, Clarke stopped to watch the fighting.

It was clearly training. Lexa, surrounded by three large, sweat soaked warriors, stood calm and easy in the centre of an arena of sand. People had gathered to watch their Heda, heckling and clapping and gasping. Clarke may have parts of herself filled with hatred for Lexa, but her people adored her.

As one, the three moved forward, and Lexa´s feet moved as though dancing. She sidestepped, twirled, her blades flashing until two were on the ground, disarmed and hands held up in supplication. The third, the best of them, was circling, and Lexa leant back as he pushed forward, his sword falling three times, Lexa pushed back and back and back. For a second Clarke thought she was bested. For a second, Clarke hoped she would be. She´d been in Polis five days, and though not a prisoner, if she tried to leave through the wall she knew she´d be stopped. Resentment at Lexa was building, not fading.

And then, as the warrior´s sword came down, Lexa raised her own to block, the metal meeting angrily, her face red with effort. And then, Lexa laughed. It was savage, twisted, a bark of laughter. Her delight in fighting evident. And somehow, she pushed back and with a spin that looked simple that Clarke knew she would never be able to replicate, disarmed the warrior and kicked him to his knees.

Flushed, her body overheated and heart twisting in her chest, Clarke turned and walked back to the tower, and Lexa never knew Clarke saw her fight that day.

The third time, they were bathed in light and surrounded by the smell of each other. Goodbye should have been heavy on their shoulders, but instead they lay languid, pliant, limbs thrown over each other in a pile. The second time had left Clarke aching and healed all at the same time. Their time was up, she had to leave, but she was going to push the time as long as she could.

Clarke had never meant to let Lexa crawl her way into her chest, to curl up and lay there, a part of her. But it had happened. Those parts of her that ground with anger, with animosity, had quietened, filled with other things.

Half asleep, Clarke nuzzled the softness behind Lexa´s ear and smiled against the skin when she heard Lexa laugh, almost giggle, the sound bouncing around the room and nestling in the back of Clarke´s throat for later.

“What?” She murmured, face still pressed to Lexa´s neck. It was a place she´d stay forever, if she could, Octavia waiting for her be damned.

“Nothing.” Lexa said, her voice a whisper, the tone lax and tranquil. “I'm just happy, Clarke.”

**Author's Note:**

> _I tumble[here](http://gabs-88.tumblr.com/), feel free to stop by and ramble at me, ask questions, say hi or whatever._


End file.
